Letters from Awesome Me
by Ponypotterwholocktaliaawesome
Summary: Canada can't believe it! The Allies have captured Prussia and have asked Canada to sign the Dissolution form. He won't sign it. America forces him to sign anyway. After Prussia dies, Canada finds something really weird inside the coat pocket of Prussia's Jacket. A thick bundle of letters. Prussia has written a letter for all his friends just to say good-bye.
1. The Dissolution of Prucan

**disclaimer: Hetalia, dont own. I also don't own any of the charaters either.**

Canada was crying. He hadn't even read the letter that was sent to him. The only thing that he had read was the return address. The letter was from the Allies.

Canada knew why it had been sent to him. They were finally inviting him to one of thier meetings but this time he didn't want to go. They were going to dissolve Prussia. He just knew it.

He couldn't get dressed, he couldn't comb his hair, he couldn't even make pancakes. This was horrible. He had finaly made friends with someone and they were going to kill him.

Usually, countries couldn't be shot or drowned or burned. One could only die if another group of countries signed an agreement to get rid of them. Then that country would feel the most horrible pain. It would last 24 hours before they would finally die and dissolve into the Earth.

He didn't want to sign it. He agreed to himself that he would go, but not sign the form. If all the countries didn't sign, Prussia wouldn't die. With that slightly reassuring thought, he got up and got ready to go to the meeting. He ate but his pancakes tasted horrible, even with maple syrup on them. _This can't be a good sign, if maple syrup doesn't cheer me up._

He grabbed Kumajiro from the chair he was sitting in and rushed out the door. He opened the door to his maple colored car and drove down the bumpy road. After a four hour drive of listening to a CD Prussia left in his car, Canada was totally depressed. He would have turned it off but Kumajiro was sleeping on the console. He began crying again. _No, Canada. You can't cry, he isn't going to die. Your not going to sign the form._

He wiped the tears from his eyes. He knocked his glasses off in the process. _Oh maple. I'm such a mess_. He parked his car in front of a tall silver skyscraper. It was the countries meeting location in America. His brother always insisted that important Allies meetings were held here. But Canada knew better, his brother didn't like traveling. America, always said he was the Home of the Heros.

Canada sighed as he scanned his key card and the door open. He walked along the wall and stared at the ground. Canada said hello to Switzerland and Ukraine but they both didn't notice.

Pushing open the door to room 234, Canada met the stares of the Allies. England, France, China, Russia, and America. He sat next to America at the head of the table. France who was sitting on the other side of him patted his shoulder. France was the only one Canada had told about his crush on Prussia. He was also Canada's brother. America finally cleared his throat and started the meeting.

"Ok Allies, we have gathered here to discuss the fate of Prussia. He has killed millions of people in his attemp of world domanation. Although he stopped, the crime can't be forgotten. I have wrote this disbanding form. I have trusted you countries to sign it. When everyone has signed it, Prussia will be gone, no longer a country. "

Canada spoke up.

"America, we really don't have to do this. I'm sure he can pay some other way. Isn't this a bit harsh. You didn't kill Germany after world war 2. Why should you kill his brother? Plus I don't really think your the one to decide his fate."

America frowned at his brother and for once, didn't say a thing. Canada almost broke out in tears again.

"Really! This one time, when I actually want to hear you, nothing! I thought you liked to be the hero, America! But, no. This time, your the merciless villain!"

This time, America looked hurt. He did like being the hero and hearing his own brother call him a villain of all things, hurt deeply. England tried to comfort him but America just pushed him away. He stared coldly at Canada.

"I'm not sure what your going at, but I **am** being the hero! I'm saving countless humans from his wrath and avenging countless others! I will go though with this and Canada, you can't stop me!"

France glanced nervously at his little brother. He didn't want him getting hurt from America. The country was strong and thick headed. He would do sometime that could harm Canada and actually think about it later. France stepped in.

"Mon ami, you can not blame Canada for being upset. He is Prussia's friend, as am I. I will sign the contract and I'm sure Canada will too. I wish to have no guilt for killing one of my best friends. You see what we mean."

Canada silently thanked France for saving him from the argument. Even though that wasn't his reasoning for being against America's claim at Prussia's life. China, who had been quite this whole time pounded his hand on the table. It was a startling move from a country who was usually peaceful.

"I have seen many countries come and go. This one is no exception. I say we all sign the form and get this over with. I have more important things go do!"

Canada glared at China but he averted his gaze. _Stupid China. How he could just sign off on Prussia's nationship and life! Just like all the others will do. I thought France, America, and England would respect my friendship with Prussia. But instead they decide to kill him!_ America passed the contract to England after signing it himself. Then it went to China. Russia signed it all to fast, with a delighted smile on his face. France stared sadly at the paper as he too signed it.

When Canada got it, he just passed it back to America. The nations just stared at Canada in disbelief. _How could he! I'm his brother, why would he just ignore my idea._ America face was flushed a deep red. Canada stared confidently back at him.

"America, and all the other countries for that matter, I'm my own nation. I can make my decision by myself and without your interference. Prussia is my friend and I'm not going to betray him like you France."

France was crying very softly into his hands. He didn't want to have to this, but he had lost a bet to England. If he won, England would have to what France wanted without arguing. If England won, France would have to what England wanted. Sadly, France had not been able to eat more scones than England. So England's wish was to keep his boyfriend, America, happy. When France had heard about the dissolution of Prussia, he had cried for a long time. He knew that his deal with England would force him to sign. Now, he felt horrible and just couldn't stop crying. Canada couldn't worry about France right now. He had to stand up to his stupid jerk brother right now. America had grabbed Canada's hand and was force writing a signature under the place where he was supposed to sign.

"America! What has come over you!?"

Canada struggled. He was older and strong as well but Canada knew that America was just stronger. He had kicked and punched America already but nothing would stop him. Finally, America let go of his hand. But Canada had already signed. America was panting and Canada was hitting him with all the strength he could muster though his tears.

All of a sudden a cry came from a closet it to the back of the room. A bloody man came stumbling through it. His once blue uniform was now red with blood. His cries were terrible and Canada was crying harder when he saw a speck of white in the blood soaked hair of the man. It was his love, Prussia. Canada ran to him and held him in his arms. The bloodshot eyes of Prussia were fixed on the purple ones of Canada. His swollen lips smiled grimly. "Hey birdie. Nice to see you again."

Canada sobbed and his tears fell onto the cross necklace that was hanging around Prussia's neck. Prussia screamed again as a wound tore open his forearm. Blood now soaked Canada's suit but he didn't care. He silenced the scream with a kiss on the dying nation's lips. It was full of blood and tears. But also of Prussia. Prussia broke away and pulled from a bloody pocket in his coat, a pile of envelopes. He pushed them into Canada's hands. Canada placed them in a clear place not covered with blood. He held Prussia close and they kissed again. They didn't stop. The pool of blood steadily grew around them. Prussia broke out in a fit of screams. "This is the most unawesome thing ever! Ahhhh! I love you Canada! Owwww! This stucks!"

Canada couldn't bear it. He plunged Prussia into one last kiss and blood was flushed onto Canada mouth as he started coughing it up. He had to break away. Prussia's eyes had no humor, no pain, no love. They were blank and his breathing had stopped. Placing his wet hand on the nations chest, he felt nothing. Well, nothing but longing for Prussia, hate for America, and a horrible sadness. Canada let out a ear-splitting scream. He clutched Prussia's body as it melted it away. All that was soon left of him was the cross necklace and a locket that Canada hadn't seen before. He hung them around his neck, picked up tes and stood up. He stormed out of the room and took of in a run after leaving. Tears blinding his view he ran down passed the meeting building and parking lot. He ran passed shops and cars and pedestrians. He stopped in a forrest 10 miles away. Then he started punching trees. He felled a fee of them and left a few major dents in more. His knuckles were bleeding bit he didn't care. His loss brought more pain than he had every felt. Even the time he was shot in the thigh was less pain than thiseen in a bar fight and hadn't seen the gun till it was shot. He longed for Prussia's laugh, his devil eyes, his messy white hair. But most of all Canada just wanted Prussia. He knew it wasn't possible though. That's what sucks about being a nation. No amount magic, science, or praying could bring you back when your dead. Canada sat in the woods crying, cussing, and taking his anger out on the trees. He fell asleep after 4 hours of crying.

Author's Note: I think this chapter is very sad. I'm pretty unemotional too. BTW if the text is in italics, it is someone's thoughts.


	2. Where is Who?

**author's note: dudes i totally didnt know what to write here so this chapter is very short.**

**disclaimer: i dont own Hetalia, heck each time i write the disclaimer i almost always spell Hetalia wrong. **

America felt bad. He had stared in utter amazement along with the other Allies as Canada cried with Prussia. He hadn't known they were such good "friends" as Canada had put it. America wouldn't have invited Canada to the meeting of he had known that they were close enough to kiss. Canada hadn't been acting normal since the meeting started, it should have been obvious that Canada would act didn't like fighting with his brother and this one had shaken his nerves badly.

He and England had gone home together after the meeting. England had been living with America for the last three days. He tried to focus on his boyfriend but America couldn't remove the image of Prussia bloody in Canada's arms.

He left to go to McDonald's. England had yelled something at him about being a terrible boyfriend and something else about a heart attack. America didn't hear him though because he was already outside.

He bought ten double cheese burgers. America sat in a booth in the back of the fast-food joint. He began to stuff his face. He claimed it helped him think, but really did the opposite. It made him forget all his troubles for while, kinda like beer, but without the nasty side effects. After he had eaten over 15 burgers, he decided to stop eating.

_ Maybe I should go apologize for attacking him earlier. I'm sure he'd be glad to hear an apologie from me after my outburst._ He drove out to Canada's home in Vancouver. Along the way he was thinking about the time the nations had agreed to let Canada hold the Olympics.

His expression was the happiest thing America had ever seen. He had lifted America up in a strong hug. It was like his quite and calm brother had been replaced with Italy. It was so cute.

America pulled up at the mountain valley home that belonged to his brother. He knocked, waited, and then just went in. If nobody answered, he figured that Canada was just sleeping, he slept late and always left his door unlocked so why not. But America searched the house and didn't find Canada anywhere. He went back outside and noticed that his twin's brown car wasn't there.

He hadn't ever come home. America though of all of the possibilities the stressed nation could have taken. America tore off in his own car back to New York. He ran his hands constantly through his hair, fretting over his older brother. He knew love could make you do crazy things.

Like the one time when America pushed England out of the way of a car and got hit himself. Or when Germany had first tried making pasta for Italy and almost burned his house down. Canada had just lost his love three days ago, he could have done so much by now. America pulled up to the American HQ for the Allies and sure enough, the Canadian car was parked in the lot.

Kumajiro was roaming around in the car, bashing against the sides in an attemp of escape. America picked the lock in the door with his pocket knife and let the bear out.

"Who are you?" America huffed at the bear's question "I'm America, obviously. Do you know where Canada is?"

"Who is that?"

"Your owner, dammit! Did you see him go from the meeting?"

"Hmmm. He ran down pass here. Bye!"

Kumajiro shut the door and America watched him drink from a maple syrup bottle in the glove compartment. But he didn't have time for this. He took off down the street, looking for a place Canada might hide. Canada always hated my perfect cities, what is the opposite of a city? America had to think about this a few minutes before deciding to head to the more rual area of New York.

He jogged a few hours later into a clear plain surrounded on three sides by forrest. When in the forrest, many of the trees America saw had dents or holes in them. Even more were broken down. He wasn't sure if it was cause of a storm or wild animals. _Wait, I know! Canada must have hit these trees to take out his frustration and pain._

He traveled through the forrest following a trail of trees that had been damaged. More bad scenarios went through his head as walked along. Like when Poland tried to fix Lithuania's closet and gave himself a concussion for two weeks. Or how about when Austria almost went insane trying to write a "perfect piece of music "for Hungry. And who forget when Russia tried to bludgeon Hong Kong to death, because he hit on China. America came across a flask with a Canadian flag painted on the front. Dripping from mouth of the flask was mape syrup. America knew he was close.

Canada couldn't go long without maple syrup. America knew that he himself couldn't go for much longer without hamburgers either. _I_ _hope I find him soon. I can't be a hero on a empty stomach._


	3. German Chocolate Memories

**Disclaimer: I want to own Hetalia, sadly i dont.**

Canada was sleeping in a maple tree a few miles ahead of America. He was dreaming about the time when Prussia had made him German chocolate pancakes for his birthday.

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"Birdie, Happy Birthday!"

Canada sputter awake. His shocked face was met by Prussia's highly amused one, only a few inches away from him. His laugh was pleasant and it felt like it rang through the mountain valley, causing birds to take off from their branches and fill the sky with thier wings. It was beautiful, just like Prussia.

They had been together for two months now and those months had been the best of his life. Once unnoticed, Canada absorbed the attention Prussia gave himanced each other out, Prussia was violent, loud and immature. Canada was quite, shy, and peaceful. They were one true pair, as France called it.

Prussia fell on top of Canada who was still in bed, and they kissed for a bit. Prussia then lept up. "Come on! Let's go to the kitchen, I have something awesome like you for you!"

"I'd love to, but Prussia, I'm just in my underwear. You kinda woke me up."

"Well don't take unawesomely long, I really want you to see this." Prussia rushed out of the room and Canada listened to his footsteps rush down the stairs before getting out from under the sheets and walking to the closet. He put on a red sweatshirt and beige loose pants. Canada walked down the stairs into the kitchen.

There he found his awesome boyfriend piling deep brown pancakes onto two plates.

"Prussia! You did this for me? Thank you!"Prussia whirled around to see his awesome Canadian smiling at his handiwork.

"German Chocolate Pancakes! Totally awesome! I made them myself!" They ate what Canada has thought to be the best thing he had ever tasted. After eating, they had taken a walk through the woods until Prussia pulled Canada to the ground and they made out in a pile of maple leaves.

Now Prussia was gone and Canada thought he would never be able to eat German chocolate pancakes again. He started to cry and woke up. This only made his crying louder. He fell from the tree but didn't stop. He was cut and bruised and longed for his one true half. Canada wanted maple syrup, Kumajiro, and Prussia. But he had left all if them back at the city.

He thought about Prussia's locket. Canada pulled it from around his neck. It was shaped like a star. Pulling a tiny latch on the side, the locket flipped open. Inside was a picture of him and Prussia kissing. _Where did Prussia get this picture. Oh, god dammit France! _Canada enjoyed the picture anyway. He started cry again. This picture was the only one Canada had of Prussia. Maybe I could ask Spain, Germany, or France if they have any more later. Canada walked alone in the forrest.

He hadn't even known that there was this much forrest in New York anyway. All he had seen of it was busy cities and airports. If he wasn't so upset over the death of Prussia, he might of enjoyed the quite woods. Canada had sank down on a rock to weep. He had to control himself but he couldn't. He just wept in wept. _I will cry long now and mabye later I won't have enough to tears to cry again._ So that's what he did. America came across his brother crying on the rock. He was pleased to have finally found him, but felt bad for his twin. _How could he still be crying, it's been 4 days! Their relationship must have been a lot deeper than good friends if he is still crying over that stupid German_.

"Canada! Man, I've been looking for you, I was worried." Canada glared at his brother.

"America. Go away. I didn't ask for you to follow me. Just like I didn't ask for you to kill my, my... boyfriend!"

America was shocked. Canada had been dating Prussia? He had just killed his older brother's boyfriend? Now he understood. Now he was mad. It was Russia who had caught Prussia. He had just handed the country to America not wanting to deal with Germany. America wouldn't have though about killing the nation if it weren't for England, he had talked of his hate for Prussia. America had just wanted to make England happy. China had cleared his head at the meeting. It was China who had wanted to get the meeting over with. America delt the blame on all but himself, but Canada wouldn't care. It was his own fit of frustration that had attacked Canada and forced him to sign the damned form. Canada would never forgive him.

America, for once, was the one to weep. He fell to the ground and shook with sadness. Then, without looking back at Canada, America ran away crying in shame. He couldn't believe at what he had done. He didn't care about what Canada was thinking, he had been a complete ass, worst than even France. He had killed his brother's boyfriend and had forced Canada to help.

America could just imagine how upset he would be if Canada killed England. He would probably hit the other countries with his baseball bat and bomb a bunch of others. America couldn't believe how calmly Canada was taking this. Even if he had killed more than a hundred trees, cried uncontrollably, and had hid in a forrest for four he hadn't taken it out on things that would care. Just trees._ And me_.

America ran and ran till he arrived back at his own apartment. He pulled open the door and met a very unhappy England.

"Where the bloody hell have you been America! You said you were going out for a snack! But here you are now a day later! I thought something terrible had happened!"

"Something terrible did happen. And it's my fault. Oh Iggy, I've killed Canada's boyfriend!"

"America." His boyfriend layed a hand on his shoulder "This isn't all your fault. We all helped capture Prussia. We all signed the contract. This is as much as your fault is it is mine."

"But we did it and he's not coming back and neither is any trust or kindness from Canada. He might have lost his boyfriend but I'm pretty sure I just lost my only brother."

England kinda slumped inside. He still remembered when America had left him. It hurt a lot. He could only imagine the pain his beautiful American was feeling. England pulled America down onto the couch and held him as tears flowed from America's blue eyes. Tears brimmed at the emarald eyes of England too. Crying over the loss of Canada, they lay on the sofa for a long time.

**author's note: guys i work on this story on my spare time between school and swim practice. please dont beg for chapters, if anyone even reads this. Comments and likes please will encourage me to write more. I write this story to test if im actually a good writer so i need your comments and reviews.**


	4. How Could There Be Love?

**author's note: Sorry. I am so sorry this took forever to be updated. I am Writing a story for my friends and they wouldn't let me stop writing it. But that story is on an unofficial timeout, for all my awesome fans. I plan to continue writing this till it is finished. I had testing and swimming and school and soccer and memorizing lines for a play and not much time for writing caus I don't always feel like it. Plus I'm bad at writing Germany/Italy so that just slowed me down. I am so bad at writing that I continue to have to fix the word writing when I spell it wrong. Also I was sooo awesomely surprised when I got all these email saying that a bunch of people liked and favorited my story. It was awesome. I will start writing the next chapter but don't check every day for my awesomeness is very slow at getting this story written. **

**Disclaimer: I can't always get what I want and this is one of these circumstances. I don't have Hetalila in my clutches. Meaning I don't own Hetalia**

* * *

"Germany? Hey! Where are you Germany? Oh..."

Italy found his friend on the bed in their bedroom. Well, it wasn't really their bedroom but Italy felt a lot more comfortable sleeping with Germany so he had just kinda moved in. Germany was sorta shaking on the bed with his back turned to the little Italian. Italy knew this was a sign of destress or sadness. He had only seen it once before when Italy had moved away for a bit to live with Romano. Germany had grown pretty attached to Italy and disliked the idea of him leaving. Italy decided not to go to his brother's. Romano was very mad but Italy was used to it by now. Germany was happy but tried to hide his joy.

When Italy placed a hand on Germany's shoulder, he jumped.

"What's wrong il mio amore?"

"What? Oh. I'm not your love really. Well. I can't say."

Italy saw a letter on Germany's lap. He picked it up before Germany could stop him. After quickly glancing over the letter, he hugged Germany.

"Oh Germania! This is bad! Your fratello has been killed! Oh, mi dispiace. Ti amo ancora."

That last bit had just slipped out. I wasn't appropriate at the time. Luckily, that was a bit of Italian he hadn't said before. Germany probably wouldn't understand. Probably.

"Ich liebe dich auch Italien."

Italy knew that German. He had over heard Prussia say it to Canada. Well except for the Italien part. _Germany loves me! Yay! Yay! Supendo!_

"So Prussia is dead? Who killed him."

"The Allies. And Canada."

"COSA? Canada wouldn't do that! They were dating!"

"What!"

"Sì!"

Germany was too confused and upset. Gilbird had arrived at his house during breakfast a note that the bird dropped on Germany's plate. Instead of finding Prussia's messy scrabble, he found France's loopy cursive.

Dear Germany,

I have deepest regards when I send you this message. I'm afraid your frère has been dissolved. The form, written by America, was signed willingly by China, England, America, and Russia. Canada was literally forced by his twin to sign and I lost a bet to England. Me and my brother were close friends to Prussia and didn't want to do this. Canada held him in his last moments but hasn't been seen since. I send what small condolences I can knowing you hate me.

Avec Amour,

France

Germany was temped to burn the letter but couldn't handle even that.

His brother was gone? Forever? They had never had the best relationship but Prussia was Germany's big brother. He had helped Germany grow into the strong country that he was today. Germany had comfroted Prussia when he lost battles. They were friends and brothers. Now Prussia was gone.

Germany had half a mind to go invade America but it would solve nothing, just get his Allies, Japan and Italy, in trouble with the Allies as well. So Germany had resorted in his own strange way of crying. That is was how he was when Italy found him.

Italy hugged Germany, barely wrapping his own scrawny arms around the German's broad shoulders. Germany hugged Italy back, which made Italy squeal with pleasure. Germany blushed at the sound and broke away. However, a smile, instead of his normal stoic gaze, graced his face. They held hands as they climbed down a flight of stairs together. The bottom of the stairs opened up into Germany's large kitchen. Further on was Germany's living room. It was small and cozy, and this is were the couple decide to snuggle up to morn. Italy laid in the sofa with his head and Germany's lap. The tall man looked softly down at Italy's face, his warm tears splashing onto Italy's forehead. The Italian didn't mind, along as he had Germany all to himself.

"Prussia is gone. Forever. What am I to do without my big brother?" Germany murmured to himself. Italy reached up and wiped away a tear from Germany's face.

"You need to not press yourselves so hard. It isn't your fault Prussia died. It is America's. But right now what should do is morn, and love me." Italy crooned.

"Vereinbart." Germany leaned over and kissed Italy's damp forehead. He wasn't really sure what to do after that for Italy had fallen asleep, a cute little smile still resting on his face. Germany didn't want to wake his sleeping friend, but he knew how long Italy could stay asleep for.

He wasn't really interested in sitting here for that long watching Italy dream. Although it was cute, Germany wanted to do something a little more productive. He slid his hand under the carmel brown mop of hair and slowly lifted Italy's head off his lap. Germany replaced his own lap with a real pillow under Italy's head. He turned to leave but after a quick after though, kissed the sleeping nation's forehead again.

Germany then left the room to go cook some wurst for himself and pasta for Italy when he awoke. Humming to himself over the frying pan, Germany though about Prussia. He wasn't always the best brother, or even friend to Germany. He was always managing to get himself into trouble, and Germany always was responable for getting him out of it. Now that Germany was thinking about it, it was a lot like his relationship with the little nation sleeping in his living room.

No matter how much trouble Italy got himself into, Germany always rescued him because he was fond of him. Actually a little more than fond. Everything about Italy was perfect for Germany. So, more or less, They balanced each other out.

Italy was kind and caring, while Germany was strict and harsh. More than ever now that Italy lived with him, the Italian's compassion was rubbing of on Germany. As Prussia had pointed out, Germany was becoming soft enough to eat pasta instead of wurst. Maybe it was why Germany like Italy so much, he reminded Germany of a nicer, more spirited, more likable version of Prussia. Yes, Italy could be annoying and Yes, he did skip training a lot, but he loved Italy all the same.

The German hummed a polka song over the sink as the pot he was holding collected water. He set it over a flame on the stove and let it be. Now he got to his real task, making wurst. He collected the ingredients from their cabinets. Germany then laid them in a line in the order the would be used. The tomato sauce, chili sauce, onion salt, sugar and pepper. In it's own area was the kielbasa sausage, ready to be boiled over the stove when the pasta was done. Germany flew around the room, adding ingeridents and flipping sausage, but not making a single mess. He was just waiting for the wurst to cool when he remembered, the pasta!

Turning to the stove, he found himself face to face with bright amber eyes. Italy leaned forward and his lips touched Germany's pale ones. He smiled and turned away to attend to the almost finished pasta. Germany blushed and stood there for a couple seconds, thoughts rushing through his head. How did he get here without me noticing? Did he really just kiss me? How didn't make any noise when coming in? Did he really just kiss me? Italy finished his pasta and dressed it up on a plate. He noticed Germany still standing where they had kissed.

"Germany? Come on, you don't want your wurst getting cold! I'll join you for dinner! Let's go!" Italy linked his arm with Germany's and balanced his plate of pasta on his head and held Germany's food with his unoccupied hand. Germany subconsciencly followed the little man as he carefully pulled Germany into his own dinning room. He didn't even notice that Italy had put the plate of pasta on his head and then dragged him across the house. He was still fazed by Italy's little sneak attack on him in the kitchen.

Had he liked the kiss? Had he resented it? No definantly not resented it. He hadn't been fully aware of what was going on till it was over, so he couldn't be fully sure of what was happening. Germany knew that no matter how strong he was physically, he wasn't half as strong emotionally. Right now, definantly proved that. He didn't know what he was thinking or what he was doing, he couldn't even remeber English. So when Italy asked if he was ok, Germany sputtered out the wrong thing.

"Mein Gott, was ist passiert? Ich bin nicht sauer auf dich, aber was gerade passiert ist. Hast du mich küssen Italien?" Germany's blushed deepened to the color of his brother's eyes when he realized what he had said and that he had said it in German. Italy was obviously confused but he continued to smile at his friend. Italy replied the best he could, in English.

"I kissed you, your not mad?" He squeaked out through his hands. He just ment to express his feelings toward the man, not freak him out or anger him. Germany smiled back at Italy, who took this as a very good sign.

"Nein, I'm not mad at you. Of course I'm not. I am actually glad you did that because it helped me make a decsion that has been rolling around in my head for a year now." He leaned over the table and whispered the last part to Italy, even though no one but them lived in the house. "Italy, do you want to go out with me?" Germany sank back into his seat as the little Italian stared at him for a second, without a visible emotion to be seen. All of a sudden, he jumped up out of his seat, knocking the table, and shouted,

"Sì! Yes! Ja! Oui! Sí!" He was so excited by the question that rushed around the table and he kissed Germany again. This time, Germany kissed back.

They started their dinner, now cold since recent events had taken awhile. They were not even focused on the food anymore, just transfixed with each other. Germany was holding back, even after asking Italy out. Deep in his heart, Germany knew this was wrong. How could he be falling hopelessly for Italy the same day his older brother dies? It was if all of his barriers and logic had been broken by the seemingly weak nation. Germany couldn't stop the confused tears from forming little rivers down his cheeks. He looked over at his boyfriend to see the same rivers on his were thinking the same thing. How messed up and wonderful and sad this whole mess was.

**Author's note of awesomeness: this chapter is story and very boring. I just didn't know what to do and I didn't want to keep everyone waiting forever so I ended it where it ends. But don't worry much more is in store for everyone!**


	5. Depressing Anniversary Sweetheart!

**author note: I like this one, but you might not. Again sorry for slow update. Please review and favorite, um you know if you um want too. **

**Disclaimer: KESESESESESESES! Of course I don't know Hetalia, don't make me laugh!**

Romano was lying out in the garden, sleeping peacefully. Spain, who was supposed to be plant the new tomato's for this summer, was more than a little distracted by his boyfriend. The rise and fall of his chest, the way Romano's eyes fluttered from time to time in his sleep, and the young man himself. In Spain's emerald eyes, Romano was flawless. The other members of his trio, Prussia and France, begged to differ. They complained of Romano's foul mouth and how he was lazy, but Spain didn't care and didn't listen. It wasn't like Prussia's boyfriend, Canada, was perfect either. Spain though he was too quiet and shy to ever get anywhere in a relationship. He wasn't even going to think about France.

Romano was sprawled across the top of the low stone wall that surrounded the garden. His legs and arms hung over each side like vines. He snored softly and his face looked peaceful and happy. Spain sighed happily and turned back to his work. A bunch of new little tomato seedlings surrounded him around where he sat in the dirt. He and Romano had grown them over the winter in Spain's living room. Spain, Actually planted and grew them, Romano just complained about how slow they grew and how there weren't any tomato on the plants. Now they were ready to be planted in their garden. Romano had helped Spain bring the seedlings out and dig about a fourth of the holes in the dirt, before sitting down to watch, and eventually fall asleep. Spain didn't wake him when he did because he was so cute when asleep.

Spain picked up a tiny tomato plant and placed it in one of the various holes spread throughout the tomato garden. He reached behind him to grab dirt from a sack he had leaning up against the wall but instead grabbed Romano's arm and accidently pulled him from the wall. The Italian fell and his face ended up covered in dirt from the bag he had fallen onto. He jumped up and stared maliciously at Spain, who sat innocently in the dirt.

"Hey! What did you do that for? I was enjoying a nice dream and you just had to wake me up no?"

Spain, still smiling at his angry Romano, stood up and wrapped his tan arms around him.

"Oh Romano! Where you dreaming about me? You looked so happy so I hope that is the case mi amor."

The Italian bushed at Spain before regaining his angry attitude.

"Whatever! But you still didn't answer my question you bastard! Why did you pull me into the bag of dirt?

"I needed dirt but instead found you, mi pequeño Romano! That was a much better find. Now that you are up, we can garden together! Our tomatoes won't grow themselves!" Romano shrugged and squatted down in the dirt next to his boyfriend. They worked together, placing and covering the plants. While doing this, Spain talked to Romano about the dish he was planning on making for dinner tonight. Romano, after an hour or so of the same conversation, got fed up with the man.

"Spain! Shut up! Why do you think I care about what you are making for dinner? Why are you making such a big deal, it is only the one hundred thousandth time I've eaten with you!"

Spain pulled Romano into a quick kiss before breaking away and smiling at the red face Italian.

"Because Romanito, it is our seconded anniversary! We started dating exactly two years ago! Is it not amazing! I remember when you came to me that night, and asked for me to come to dinner. I hadn't seen you in a month or so because you were spending time in Germany with your brother. You were so mad and it was so cute. You, Romano, were obviously jealous of Germany's and Italy's friendship, plus a little more."

"Jealous! I wasn't jealous, you bastard! I was just mad that the potato bastard was going after my little brother! I didn't want him to hurt him, that was all!" Romano cut in, fuming over Spain interpretations of his mood.

"Hmm, ok. Yes, well we went to your favorite restaurant, but you couldn't eat a single tomato. That was when I got very worried. You had never refused a tomato, never. I leaned over to feel your forehead to take a temperature, and you grabbed me and pressed me into a kiss. Oh, and it was maravilloso! You broke away, looked away in embarrassment, and turned and asked me in rapid Italian: vuoi uscire con me la Spagna? It took me just a few seconds to comprehend what you just said. Then, I replied by another kiss. It was mágico." Spain looked up to find at bright red face looking at him.

"How do you remember so much?" Romano whispered to Spain. He obviously was highly embarrassed at the recall of romantic evening the two had shared.

"Oh, but mi amor, you remember just as much" Romano nodded his head, and Spain pulled him into another kiss. Romano tasted very much like tomatoes and dirt, along with his own taste as well. Which were all things he liked the taste of, except for the dirt but it didn't soil the kiss at all. They stood up and Spain took one more look over the neat rows of baby tomato plants.

"Happy Anniversary, Romano. We will have tomatoes soon!" Spain wrapped his arm around the smaller man's shoulders and ushered him into to the house. Romano decide to join Spain in the kitchen as he flew about the room collecting, mixing, stirring, and baking things. Spain had to end up kicking him out though because he kept eating the tomatoes before Spain could use them. Romano sat in the large dinning room alone, tapping his nails on the table impatiently. Minutes later Spain came through the door balancing several plates on his hands. Spain had, somehow in the hour, prepared a little feast for the two of them. Tomato soup, pasta with tomato sauce, tomato salad, and all different types of fresh tomatoes. Romano smiled widely at the fabulous display of his favorite food. Spain kissed the top of his head, which Romano smacked him away afterwards, when he went to set the food in front of Romano. Dinner was silent, Romano and Spain had their mouths full of tomatoes. They are all of the food in a short amount of time. The Italian didn't know how he could top the spaniard's tomato feast, it was pretty amazing.

"Well, Spain, that was good. I have something better."

Spain's eyes light up like a traffic light.

"Oh, really! Romano, surprise me!"

With that Romano leaned across the table and attacked Spain with his lips. Spain, who was taken aback at first, kissed back with full earnest. This was the first time that Romano had kissed Spain since that first date. It was always Spain kissing South Italy, never the other way around. Till now.

A rapping at the door startled Spain out of the kiss, much to the dismay of Romano. They turned to the glass door and saw Prussia's little yellow chick sitting on the doorknob.

"Ugh! That stupid potato bastard two's bird ruined my kiss! I'm going to kill him!"

Spain looked at the bird in total confusion. He hadn't seen either of the other trio members for a month or so. Why Gilbird would show up now was beyond Spain. They knew that it was Romano's and his' Anniversary, he had been talking about it the whole time they were at France's house last time. Prussia complained about him, but he still heard. Spain, slightly annoyed now, walked over and let the yellow chick in. He hadn't noticed before that the chick had a letter addressed with his name on it, tied to it. Spain untied the letter from the chick's leg and sent the bird away. He went back over to the table to read the letter. He read it in his head. It said the following:

Dear Spain,

If you are receiving this letter, this means that I am dead. The Allies have signed off on my nationship and I'm gone forever. So here is my goodbye. You have been an awesome friend to the awesome me. You are always there for me, like the Austrian War(wasn't that so much fun!). You, are the bright side to the Bad Touch Trio. You can get me looking up even if certain death is right around the corner. Spain, remember that time we went on our little adventure to break into Austria's house? And then we got caught by Hungry. You were still able to think of good things, despite the dents in our skulls. Then there's your even more awesome dark side. Like April Fool's Day. That was so awesome, especially on your part. I still can't stop laughing at that picture of England sleeping with a bear, and then America sleeping in a bear costume. The dorks. You should totally keep it going with Romano(I see the awesome spark that is your love) but you need to get laid dude. It last longer after that happens. But make sure he stops calling me potato bastard two. I'm older and therefore should be one, not two! So this is unawesome that this can't be said in person. Tell Canada that I love him. I love you to, as a friend, cause your totally awesome!

Goodbye Spain,

The Awesome Prussia

Spain couldn't believe what the letter said. He read it over and over and even out loud so Romano could hear it but he still couldn't process it. It was true, but it couldn't be. Prussia was one of his best friends, him being gone was heartbreaking. He couldn't deal with it. He knew it was real because Prussia was clearly at a loss of words in the letter, something that only happens when he tries to tell the truth. Spain ran from the room, sobbing. He slammed the door of his room and buried himself in he and Romano's bed. Romano cursed Prussia and walked over to where Spain had thrown the letter. He picked it up, read and threw it back on the ground. He wasn't best friends with Prussia, and wasn't enemies with him either. He had been scared of Prussia when he was younger but had gotten over it. But they had a neutral relationship, because of Spain. So while Romano was upset at his death, or at least he thought he was upset, he was more upset for Spain and at Prussia who had ruined their Anniversary. He ran off in the direction Spain had fled, so he could comfort him. He found their bedroom door locked, which surprised Romano. Spain always kept the door open, they were the only two people who lived in the house anyway. Romano sat at the door, back against it. He listened to Spain weep and it distressed him that he couldn't help the stupid Spaniard.

"Spain, let me in!" He yelled through the crack near the floor. Spain either didn't hear him or didn't want Romano at the moment because there was no response. Romano threw his hands up in frustration. He then resorted to kicking the door and saying "Spain" over and over again. Spain still wouldn't let him in. Romano sat on the floor again and waited. He fell asleep still saying "Spain".


	6. Wine and Blame

**author's note: slow update, again! But good news I end school in a matter of days so I will have a lot more time to write.**

**disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia **

* * *

The wine cellar in France's house contained was like Prussia's diaries, they dated back to the country's first birthday. They also contained enough wine to last till France died. However, after the world meeting, France didn't try to be a hero like America and find Canada. He didn't go have a romantic dinner with anyone like Germany and Italy or Spain and Romano. He didn't even mess with England or flirt with anyone. France went home, cried, and drank 1/32 of his wine stores and then passed out on his faint couch.

When France awoke, he had in the worst hangover he had ever had. But that part was the only thing that made sense, he did drink a lot of wine. Nothing else did, like how he had gotten there, what he was doing, or why his two friends weren't there. Normally, France wouldn't get that drunk without both Spain, Prussia, and an awesome party. His friends weren't there though.

Then, an enormous headache hit him, and so did the reason why the members of bad touch trio weren't together. Prussia. The meeting. Canada. His fault. All of it. France wanted to break every single wine bottle that littered the floor, there were a lot of them, over his head. Unfortunately, that would only bring him momentary pain, and a great lot of suffering to the humans in his country. Then it would heal up and he would be fine, except for maybe another major headache.

France cried out in distress, and his cry rang through the empty hall of his house, mocking his pain. He couldn't believe what he had done, well he could but he didn't want to. He didn't want to believe that he was the downfall of his best friend.

Why had he even agreed to the idiot England's stupid bet? Oh, wait, he knew that too. He was trying to prove that he could beat England at something England was good at. Since England isn't good at many things, a scone eating challenge was in place. It was that or who could cook the worst food, which France couldn't bear to even try to cook worse than England. To do so would be extremely shameful to himself and his country. Then, of course, when he had lost to England, why had he kept his promise? Since when had he ever kept a promise?

France, you stupid imbécile! How could you do this? He puzzled over the question he had posed to himself. There had been so many alternatives to this horrible ending. France could have stopped all of this, but he had been too stupid to realize it. He could have not come. France could have not signed the paper. He also could have helped Canada when America leaped at him. The list went on and on. He could have helped Prussia escape from the Allies. He could have made a scene like Canada to stall so Canada could have escaped. France was tugging on his neck scarf with his teeth as he shook his head and cried.

This rude reality had set in. Now, Canada hated him. Now, Spain probably hated him. Now, his efforts to be nice to Germany are futile because he had just killed Germany's brother. Now, Romano hated him, for Spain's sake. Worst of all, Prussia had died without France being able to set things straight with him.

They had a shifty past before the whole BTT thing and France had never been able to become true best friends with the Prussian. This disturbed him the most. Knowing that now all his friends didn't love him, heck, hated him now, was the top most horrible thing for France. He loved being loved, now everyone hated him so much.

It was all his fault. He looked down at his chest because he had taken notice to a damp cloth pressed there. He had unconsciously bitten off the end of his pink silk necktie. France slowly got off the faint couch so he could change his scarf. Just because I'm in a hangover, doesn't mean I have to look it! With that, and also because he thought picking an outfit and grooming himself might cheer him up, he staggered over to the stairwell. France grasped tightly to the railing and pulled himself up the staircase. It was hard and slow, for France in his drunken state. When he finally got off the staircase, he lumbered over to at the island in his fabulous kitchen.

All the appliances were stainless-steel, the stove was first class and so was the sink and the dishwasher. He didn't have a microwave because he believe that it wasn't true cooking to use it. He had 4 different ovens, two stacked on top of each other in different locations. He often needed many when baking dinner, cakes, or just about anything. He also had like walk in freezer/refrigerator stock full of all types of things. Simple things like eggs, milk, butter, but also things he used for more extravagant dishes. Cow intestines, brains, livers, and just about any other part of a cow. Skinned pigeon and rabbits, all kinds of sea creatures and snails.

England had once gone into his freezer and passed out from the sight of all the meat. America was pretty mad but it wasn't France's fault that they had come to his house for lunch, he hadn't invited them over. This problem, was his fault. It wasn't England's or China's or Russia's, it was France's fault.

France held back tears as he plodded over to the medicine cabinet. He took a headache pill, a pain pill, and also a sugar pill, just to see if it would help. As the medicine kicked in, France felt a huge wave of drowsiness wash over him. Unfortunately he was too far away from the chair to sit down before he collapsed to the floor and fell asleep.

France awoke and looked at the clock above the stove, 3 o'clock he had been sleeping for four hours. He was still drowsy, why had he awoken. France sat up and looked for the source of his disturbance. Sitting on faucet, two little birds chirped noisily, one yellow and one white. The white one was his, and the yellow one was Prussia's.

"What? Is this some kind of terrible joke? I know it's my fault, I don't need anymore mean rappels! Who sent you? I bet it was England!" France ranted. He stood up, completely forgetting about his headache and went to shoo the birds away. When he got there, his stomach lurched from the sudden movement and he bent over the sink. Instead of hurling, France found a letters and pulled it out of the sink. It was damp from a puddle in the sink but otherwise fine. He couldn't read the return address because the ink had run and the address been ruined by water. France stumbled to the office down the hall to get his letter opener and his reading glasses. Once he had retrieved the thin glasses and sliced the seal of the letter, he released the paper from the envelop. It was folded neatly but inside, the writing that dressed the page was as messy as America's bedrooms had been there)He could barely make out what it said but he finally did manage to decipher the writing.

Dear France,

If you are receiving this letter, I am dead. I have been killed and won't come back. I planned to leave the world knowing how I felt and this is your letter. France, I am aware that you were most likely instrumental in my destruction, but I don't want you to kill yourself about it. It would be unawesome if both of us were dead. I, the awesome Prussia, am sure you had no real control over my death. Anyway like thanks for being an awesome friend through the ages. Well, being my friend most of the time. We had little unawesome disagreements but that was in the past. Now that I am dead I need you to tell Mattie that I love him. Dying wish, fill-full it or my spirit will haunt you. Abschied für immer von den Preußen genial.

France couldn't and didn't want to read the letter again because his gushing tears had stained the page and smeared the ink. He felt like he could drowned in all his tears. It was all his fault.


	7. Blissfully in the dark

**author: damn, I am so lazy and so I didn't even start writing this after I finished the last chapter. So it took a little while to find a concept and also to write it. Sorry for another long awaited, hopefully, update!**

Music of the piano floated through the house and to Hungary's ears as she swept the floor in the parlor, echoing off the walls. It made the house seem even more empty than it was.

Every since Italy moved away, it had been just her and Austria. Now, even Prussia didn't come around. She almost missed his stupid face. She had no one to smack around with her frying pan. No Prussia, no Bad Touch Trio. Just her and Austria alone in the big empty house.

Austria played the piano 90% of the time and didn't even talk to Hungary when playing. It was nice to hear the music and Austria was very talented. He had even, on rare occasion, pulled Hungary onto the piano bench and let her play. She wasn't very good and liked to listen to the piano much more than play it.

Or writing music either. She had tried composing something for Austria 's birthday but ended up frying it on her skillet. It was worst than Prussia's singing or maybe even as bad as England's cooking. It was just that horrible.

Austria write or played was beautiful, almost like him. His fingers danced on the keys like a Folkdancer. His sheet music were better than Japan's manga or Hungary's couples she shipped. Nothing could top it in Hungary's eyes. Austria was one with his piano and music.

If only Austria liked her that much. Hungary missed being a big sister to Italy or a best friend to Prussia or even a wife to Austria. She missed being loved. Of course she had friends, Germany, Italy, Ukraine, Liechtenstein, and Austria, but she only saw Austria frequently. The others had hadn't been seen in awhile by Hungary. It made her sad.

Unconsciously, Hungary had drifted into the music room and had stopped sweeping entirely. She found herself thinking about her friends while staring at the buzzing strings inside the piano. Austria looked up from his music momentarily and saw Hungary standing like a statue in the entrance of the room.

"Well, don't just stand there. Come here Hungary, what is bothering you?" Hungary was snapped out of a trance at Austria's voice. She shook her head a bit and walked over to the piano bench and sat heavily down. Austria stared back into her eyes as she looked at him for a minute.

"You see being here with you but Austria, I get lonely. You are always on your piano, a pastime that I don't enjoy quite so much. I want to have people over, maybe for dinner or something! Can you grant me this wish? " Hungary pleaded. She hadn't meant to share so much but it was too late now. Austria adjusted his glasses on his nose.

"I guess so. In truth, I do think it gets boring sometimes. Especially when your doing something else. So dinner? If you can arrange it, that can happen." Hungary leaped up of the bench and squealed. She kissed Austria on the top of the head and rushed out of the room to send the letters.

Austria picked up his glasses that had fallen to the floor in Hungary's excitement. Instead of putting them on, he rested them on the music shelf of the piano. He didn't really need ten and while Hungary wasn't in eyeshot or no one was home, he didn't wear his glasses. They got bothersome and itchy when he wore them a lot. He just wore them to look smarter, but nobody knew and they couldn't find out. He would be a laughing stock, especially in Prussia's eyes.

That demon duche had messed with Austria since he was formed. He probably would stop till the fallen of Prussia either. Thank god when the day comes. It was so unlikely though. Countries formed often enough, just recently the Soviet Union fell apart creating many new countries, but it was quite rare that countries died. Most just became older, more advanced versions of himself.

Like Italy. He used to by Austria, then became a kingdom, then became Italy the country.

So in short, Austria was probably never going to get rid of Prussia, ever.

Austria closed the cover of the key board and got up to see what Hungary was doing. He found her in the parlor scribbling furiously on letter paper, notes to all the people she was inviting to dinner. Austria was relieved to find she was only inviting only a couple people. Germany and Italy, Spain and Romano, England and America, Prussia and Canada.

"Wait, why are you inviting Prussia?! I don't mind Canada but Prussia is my arch enemy Hungary! Can't he just be pardoned from attending?" Austria whined after glancing at the list. He didn't want that Prussia coming and ruining an already busy evening.

"I invited Canada and Germany, and it is your house. Prussia was bound to show up. I thought 'might as well invite him anyway'. Cheer up, your doing this for me anyway. All you have to do is try and enjoy. " Hungary swooned, tracing her finger around Austria's chin. Austria frown but nodded his head. Prussia could come, sadly.

Hungary wrote short little invites on fancy Austrian letter paper. Then she gave it to a mail person to deliver them.

She waited excitedly on a sofa for almost an hour. Hungary was so excited. She didn't think Austria would really let her have so many people over. Especially Prussia. But they were all invited and she hoped they would all come. It would be awesome.

Austria had gone back to the piano after giving Hungary permission to invite Prussia to dinner. Inspite of his hatred for the nation, he felt that since it was Hungary's Party, she could invite whomever she wanted. Even if that whoever, was Prussia.

Austria eventually grew bored of playing his newer composition after playing it for more than two hours. Time for something new. He walked over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room and flipped causally through the hundreds of folders containing music he had written or gotten from other composers.

He had all the folders organized alphabetically and had all his favorite pieces in blue folders and ones he had written himself in red folders. The majority of the folders were white. He fluttered his fingers along the spines of each one, as if feeling the music inside.

Austria pulled out a random white folder from the P section. It was titled "The Prussian Sonata No. 1 in F Major". This folder contained sheet music written by no other than Prussia. He had written it for Austria's birthday a while back, claiming it was the only thing he could think of giving Austria because was all he did, play the piano. Austria had never played the piece.

Austria didn't put the folder back on the shelf. He took it with him to the piano and and spread the sheet music along the music stand. Since it was unfamiliar, the fast paced song sound wrong when Austria first started playing. By the 10 measure, Austria was playing the song as if he had practiced it for years.

The piece, though it was written by Prussia, was fairly complicated, for someone with less skill than Austria. The song continued for 2 pages, and had a slow beat. It was also not the most happy sounding song. It was definitely a song Prussia would write. He finished the song and stared as the sheet for a minute.

Something was wrong. He no longer heard the sound of Hungary's broom scraping on the floor. Austria rushed out of the music room and into the kitchen. He found Hungary on tiles sobbing. Bending down, Austria hugged her softly. There on the ground, next to Hungary, was an envelope stained with blood. On the back, one word was scrawled in ink. Prussia.


End file.
